An Explosion A Day...
by Papergirl
Summary: XF/EE/QL: Sam Beckett leaps into Gary Hobson and together with Chuck and Mulder and Scully, they must stop a bombing. Don't forget to read the sequel "Keeps Suspicions Away"


TITLE: An Explosion A Day...   
AUTHOR: Papergirl 

AUTHOR'S NOTE : Ok, this is a story with several crossovers. It's a X-Files/Quantum Leap/Early Edition crossover. When you're done reading it, feel free to give me some feedback. I'd be pleased. I haven't sent in any fanfic before, so I hope it's okay. I apologize for any errors. 

DISCLAIMERS : I don't wanna be sued, or fined, so here I go. I'm not taking any credit for the characters or shows anyway, but some people might not know that so - The X-Files, Fox Mulder, and Dana Scully are property of Chris Carter - Quantum Leap, Sam Beckett, and Al Calavicci are property of Donald P. Bellisarius - Early Edition, Gary Hobson, and Chuck Fishman are property of Bob Brush. Hopefully, that's it. And the other characters I throw in, most of them are not mine, and I do not wish to take any credit for creating them. I would just like to thank all these people in creating them and letting people like me be able to use them. 

SPOILERS: This story takes place when Chuck was still on Early Edition, Quantum Leap was still on the air, after Mulder "killed" himself and before Scully's cancer was cured on The X-Files. 

Thanks. 

And On With The Story............ 

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An Explosion A Day.....   
PART 1   
CHAPTER 1a   
"And in other news today, Chicago is still wrapped up in the wrath of the massive heat wave. While the actual temperature is only 93°, the Heat Index is supposed to reach at least 113°, which is only 15° more than it is right now. And that reminds me-" 

Gary Hobson rolled over and slammed the radio off. According to the radio broadcaster, it was already unbearably hot, and Gary Hobson already had a full day's work ahead, if the paper showed up on time. 

A thump and a meow signaled that, as always, the cat and the paper were on time. He got up and scratched his head, sill sleepy, and wondered, just for a second, if that cat would ever NOT be on time, and he could actually get to sleep in once and a while. He padded over to the thermostat and switched on the air conditioner. He suspected that half of the city of Chicago had already done so. 

Instead of the usual cup of coffee, Gary poured a glass of ice water. Hot liquids were something that he did NOT need today. His shirt was already soaked in sweat, just from sleeping. 

Finally, he made his way to the door, and unlocked it. The orange and white tabby darted in past his ankles as he bent to pick up the Chicago Sun-TImes. 

Many Chicagoans and suburban dwellers had subscriptions to the popular newspaper, but Gary Hobson didn't even have to pay for his. It just came. And it 'just came' a day early. Every day. 

"And what are the headlines this morning?" he murmured to himself. 

"Bomb in D.C. Kills 60, Injures 300. Early Friday afternoon, in a parking garage across from the IRS building, a large bomb exploded, injuring over 300 people, and killing at least 60 others, including the expected bomber, Alex Krychek. Krychek, a former FBI Agent, had planted the bomb on the lowest level of the garage, but apparently wasn't able to get out in time." 

Gary took a deep breath. The large photo was rather graphic. The scene it showed was the picture of true horror. It was taken only fifteen minutes after the explosion. 

A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts. 

"Who is it?" he called faintly. 

"Chuck", came the reply. 

Gary opened the door for him, and his friend burst in, wearing a wet, oversized red tee shirt, soaked jean shorts, and carrying a waterbottle. Around his neck was a large white towel. 

"Hey, Gare," he said, plopping into the couch before Gary could stop him. "Guess what. Some kids outside have busted the hydrant open. It's quite a happening party. You should SEE those single moms! There's that redhead with the hot pink bikini.....wow." 

"Sorry, Chuck," Gary said, heading back into the bedroom. "I'm heading to DC today." 

"Washington? Are you nuts? Their heat index is higher than ours! It's muggy as hell there, not like it's much better here. If anything, you should be going to Siberia. I'm sure there are some Russians who need your help. And, I'll be glad to join you, ya know. I hear Siberia is nice and cold this time of year." 

"Too late, Chuck," Gary told him, his suitcase already halfway full. "Wanna come or not?" 

"Sure," Chuck agreed dismally. "Someone has to keep you outta trouble." 

"And who would that be?" Gary asked, poking his head out of the room. 

Luckily, Gary had ducked back in before the wet towel could hit him in the head.   


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PART 1   
CHAPTER 1b   
"So, Ziggy says this'll be an easy one. All I have to do is ask the girl out for a date?" Dr. Sam Beckett asked, still skeptical. 

"Well, yeah. I mean, that's his theory," Admiral Albert Calavicci replied, smacking the handlink for old time's sake, even though the computer hadn't displayed any new information in the past fifteen minutes. 

"Well then, where is this girl then, huh, Al?" 

"She's next door at the cafe. Sitting alone and drinking coffee. Seems pretty easy to me, Sam," Al noted, following his friend as he walked into the little diner. 

"Yeah, well, you've had 5 wives, remember?" Sam said under his breath as he caught sight of the dark-haired woman facing away from him at a table on the right. 

"That's all I have to do, right?" Again, he talked to his friend under his breath. If anyone would have heard them, they would have assumed that the Navy lawyer had lost his mind and begun talking to thin air. Of course, they couldn't see Al, who was a hologram from the future, projected into the past that only Sam could see and hear. 

Five minutes later, Sam Beckett was covered in a bright, white-blue glow, and was once again bouncing around in time.   


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PART 1   
CHAPTER 1c   
"Mulder?" Dana Scully called, stepping into her apartment. She kicked the door closed and carried the several bulging brown grocery bags into the kitchen. 

"Hey! Don't go in there yet! I just mopped the floor!" 

"Mulder! You scared me," Scully said, as Mulder grabbed some of the bags from her arms before they fell. 

They plopped them down on the counter, and Mulder started putting the thigs away. Scully, meanwhile, had turned to go get more groceries. 

"You know," Mulder said, opening a cabinet and placing several cans of soup inside as Scully reappeared with the last of the bags. "I've cleaned everything in your house. Twice. And you don't have any good cable stations. So now I'm forced to start cooking", he said, pointing over his shoulder at the pot of water boiling on the stove. 

"Oh no! I'm sorry, Mulder. Please! Give me another chance. I'll make everything dirty again for you. Just DON'T start cooking on me!" Scully mocked, grinning, as she put containers of yogurt into the refrigerator. 

"Calm down, Dana. I'm only making macaroni and cheese." 

They shared a laugh, but it only was a half-hearted one. Mulder had known, even without Scully telling him, that their plan, their deal, hadn't been followed through yet. That they hadn't cured her. But that they still believed that he was dead. 

"Maybe tomorrow", Mulder told her lightly, but her back was to him. She nodded slightly, and reached down in the last bag as Mulder poured the box of macaroni in the pot. 

She had thought he was truly crazy when he had come to her that night nearly two weeks earlier. His hair ruffled, eyes red, and cheeks streaked with tears, he had cried into her arms. Told her that it was all his fault. That maybe they had done all that to him, and to her, just to make him believe. Well, he had told her that night, sitting on the couch drinking coffee, he was sick and tired of believing. Of always suspecting everyone, or sometimes, in the case of Krychek, trusting too quickly. Either way, he was just so tired, and filled with guilt. Guilt about his father, his mother, his sister, and his partner. 

She had told him, with tears in her eyes, too, that it wasn't his fault. None of it was. It hadn't been HIM who had taken his sister, or pulled the trigger on his dad, or had caused his mother's stroke, or had been responsible for Dana's two abductions. He disagreed, of course. 

So then, that night, they had thought up the plan. How they would plant one of the murdered scientists they had found in the warehouse in Mulder's apartment. Have Scully identify him as Mulder, perform the autopsy herself, and conclude that he had died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. Then, they would cremate the body, so no one could contradict the evidence that the body had NOT been Agent Mulder's, and the actual body had been killed from a gunshot to the heart. 

Then came the hard part. Scully would tell a comittee that she believed that Agent Mulder's work had been false, that he had been yanked around and made to believe in the lies the government had happily created. That his search for his sister had been in vain, and the lifelong search for alien life had been fake. She told the committee that it had all been a lie. Agent Mulder's work was a lie. And now he was dead. 

Their plan? If the shadowy men behind Agent Scully's disappearance and terminal cancer no longer had to make Agent Mulder believe, they would cure her. There was no need for her to die. She would no longer be a threat without Mulder. 

Assistant Director Skinner, who was their immediate superior and had become their friend, did not know of the scheme Mulder and Scully had cooked up. It was too risky to tell him, until Agent Scully was cured. Then Mulder would mysteriously reappear (they hadn't worked out those details yet). Until then, Special Agent Fox Mulder would hide out in Special Agent Dana Scully's apartment, sleeping on her couch, cleaning up, and, apparently, cooking. 

Which, Scully didn't want to admit, was more than alright with her. That night, Mulder had told her how close he had come to killing himself. He had even cocked the gun. But he couldn't do it. Not without seeing Scully one last time. 

But his plan had failed, and instead of shooting himself, he had ended up pouring his heart out to his partner. 

And now, until she was cured, Mulder could not leave the apartment. 

"I rented some movies", Scully informed him. 

"Ooh, and you bought popcorn. Butter Lovers. Yum yum." 

"I knew you'd appreciate it", Scully quipped. 

"Thank you, Scully", he said sincerely. Dana turned away. 

"The macaroni will be ready soon. Why don't you go change? I did laundry today", Mulder offered, changing the subject. 

Dana Scully was grateful for her partner as she locked herself in her room. She did, however, wonder exactly how he knew where her underwear was kept.   


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PART 1   
CHAPTER 2a   
They had made it to O'Hare with plenty of time to spare. Unfortunately, their plane had been delayed. For two hours. And now Gary was slowly growing impatient with Chuck's frequent attempts to sneak a peak at the paper's sports page. 

Finally, when he could take it no more, Gary got up and fled to the bathroom, leaving Chuck talking to an empty chair. 

He answered nature's call, and washed his hands and face. He sighed, then took a deep calming breath and left to go face Chuck. How he suddenly envied Marissa, his other best friend, who was on vacation in Canada. 

Hey, Chuck," Gary greeted, again sitting down to face his doom. 

"Our flight's here", Chuck said lightly, climbing to his feet and slipping his carry-on bag over his shoulder. Gary followed suit, and walked along with Chuck to their gate. 

"Listen, Chuck", Gary paused, to make sure that his best friend was listening. "I'm......I'm sorry about the way I acted. You know, about the paper. It's just-" 

"No, no, Gare. I understand. Really. It's my fault. If you have the power to win the lotto every day, to be rich beyond your dreams and you don't want to do it, it's not your fault. You must have been dropped when you were a kid. You weren't, were you, Gare?" 

His friend's glare answered his question for him, and so Chuck continued. "Anyway, it's really my fault that I keep asking. I mean, enough is enough, isn't it? I give up. All I'm saying is, I'm not paying for ANYTHING on this trip. It's your treat. And if you run out of money, Gare, you got the paper, don't ya?" 

Gary didn't answer. Instead, he handed his ticket to the attendant, and continued on to the plane, ignoring what Chuck was whining and complaining about now. Sure, Chuck could be really fun, if he'd just forget about gambling for a while. But, that was Chuck. It was what made him him. And Gary couldn't change that. 

So he just continued half-listening to him as they buckled their seatbelts. Finally, his little tirade was over. 

"Hey, Gare?" 

"Yes, Chuck?" 

"What's the paper say about this bombing." 

"Nothing more than I already told you." 

"Well, how are you gonna stop it? I mean, just where exactly do you start." 

But Gary didn't answer. He couldn't. Because now he was several years in the future, in the body of Sam Beckett. And Sam Beckett was several years in the past, at least, from where his actual body was, in the body of Gary Hobson. 

"I don't know", Sam answered truthfully, looking around for Al. 

"I mean, a bombing's a big thing to prevent." 

"A bombing? Prevent?" 

"Yeah, Gare. Don't scare me. That's what the paper said to do, isn't it?" 

"Yeah, yeah. Prevent the bombing." 

"Yup." Sam's partner turned to look out of the window. 

"Oh boy", Sam mumbled, utterly confused.   


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PART 1   
CHAPTER 2b   
"Skinner gave me a case to work on today. Says I need to keep my mind focused." 

"And.....?" Mulder asked, rewinding the first tape. Not everyone always listened to the little 'Be kind, Rewind' stickers on the videotapes. 

"And it's about this immigration fraud that's happening right across the street from the IRS building." 

"Isn't that a parking garage?" Mulder asked, hitting the play button on Scully's VCR. Then he sat down next to her on the couch, just as the microwave beeped. 

"I'll get it," Mulder leaped up and headed to the kitchen. 

"No, Mulder," Scully answered his question. "It's next to the parking garage, in a barbershop." 

"A barbershop?" Mulder asked, poking his head out of the kitchen to look at her. 

"Yes, a barbershop," Scully repeated, grinning despite herself. "They're giving illegal immigrants makeovers and then give them fake IDs." 

"And why's Skinner giving this to you?" Mulder asked, plopping down next to Scully with a big bowl of popcorn and two sodas. 

"I don't know. I told him that I really need to keep my mind off of your death and everything, so he gave me a 'normal' case," Scully said, popping open her Coke. 

"Oh, I see. That's great. No one wants to remember Spooky," Mulder said lightly. 

"Mulder, they can't FORGET Spooky. That's the problem." With that, they turned their attention to the previews. 

Hours later, the tv screen silently displayed static, the movie long over. The bowl of popcorn was laying sideways on the ground, kernels spread on the carpet. The two figures on the couch had long ago fallen asleep, and were covered with a heavy afghan. Little did either of them know, Scully, who had fallen asleep first, was using Mulder as a pillow. And Mulder, who rarely slept because of his insomnia and nightmares, had, quite possibly, the best dreams of his life, and that made him sleep very, very peacefully.   


An Explosion A Day.....   
PART 2   
CHAPTER 1a   
By the time the plane had landed, Sam Beckett had managed to escape to the bathroom only twice. Once to actually go, and once to talk with Al. 

Fortunately, Al had learned a lot from this kid. This leap had Sam as Gary Hobson, a currently unemployed ex-stock broker divorcee that lives in a hotel in the Windy City. He was currently headed to Washington, DC, with his pal Chuck Fishman, to stop a major bombing in a parking garage. Unfortunately, both Al and Ziggy knew that Gary was hiding something. Sooner or later, they'd pump it out of him. Hopefully. Or else, Sam might be stuck as Gary Hobson forever. 

But a long look in the mirror in the bathroom told him that that wouldn't be TOO terrible. At least Gary was nice-looking. And, according to Chuck, he was a heroic boy-scout type. 

Not too unlike me, thought Sam, smiling to himself as he and Chuck stepped out of the airport and into the air conditioned rental agency. Which, according to Chuck, was a really nice break, seeing how muggy and hot it was walking over. 

"So, you wanna drive?" he asked, tossing the keys to their tan rental car to the man standing next to him. Grinning, Chuck got in and let the top of the car down. 

"You got a convertible?" Sam asked, noticing it for the first time. 

"Yeah. Beats the heat. And besides, you're paying," Chuck said, grinning even wider, and sped out of the parking lot of the rental agency. 

"So, get out the paper, you dolt, and gimme the address. Can't find the right parking garage without the address." he told Sam. 

"What?" Sam asked him, confused even more. 

"The newspaper in your carry-on bag in the seat behind you, Sam," 

A voice informed him from the backseat. Sam nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around so quickly, the seat belt caught and almost choked him. Taking a deep breath, he glared daggers at Al while retrieving the beat-up bag. 

"We finally got it out of him!" Al told his bud proudly. "See, we told him the truth-" 

"You WHAT?" Sam asked, incredulous. 

"What are you talking 'bout, Gare? All I did was turn on the radio." 

"Oh, sorry," he told Fishman, and unzipped the bag. 

"We had to. It was the only way Ziggy could think of to get the secret out of him. And he believed us. But HIS story's incredible, too." 

"What is it?" Sam asked. His eyes widened when he realized that he had talked to Al out loud in front of Chuck again. 

"It's the Beatles. Even I know that." 

"Sorry. Didn't recognize it at first," Sam covered. Chuck nodded, and turned his attention back to the road. 

"Gary told us that somehow, every morning, a cat appears on his doorstep with a Chicago Sun-Times." 

Sam's look made Al continue. 

"But not the day's paper. Tomorrow's paper. He knows the future. Well, in a way. Then he goes around helping people, changing the bad headlines. Yeah, I think you and him would get along very well. Both of you are the hero-types and know something about the 'future'. Not bad, not bad." 

This time, Sam's look told Al to get to the point. 

"Anyway, Ziggy thinks that you have to go stop the bombing. In the original history, both Chuck and Gary were killed trying to stop this Krychek guy." 

Al smacked the handlink with an opened fist. It squealed, and gave him more information. "And two FBI Agents were also killed while trying to stop Krychek. But, Ziggy? That doesn't make sense!" 

Sam waited rather impatiently for Al to continue. He didn't want to speak out again and make Chuck think he was loony. 

"Except, Sam, Ziggy says that one of the FBI Agents was ALREADY dead." 

PART 2   
CHAPTER 1b   
It was Mulder that awoke first. He was warm. Really warm. And sweaty. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn't alone on the couch. In fact, he noticed red hair, and realized that Scully was laying on top of him, sound asleep, using his chest as a pillow. And the room had grown VERY warm. Or maybe that was just his cheeks....... 

Scully stirred, and Mulder shifted. If he was quick and careful, he could slide off the couch without waking Scully, and hopefully without landing on the bowl of popcorn. 

Three. Two. One. He slipped off the couch, landing with his back on top of the bowl, and Scully rolled with, right on top of him. 

"Ow!" He yelped, and jumped up. Scully, somewhat groggily, woke up, too. Now Mulder had a dent in his back the shape of a round bowl, his shirt was damp with sweat, and his face was a lot more flushed than it outta be. 

"What's wrong, Mulder?" Scully asked sleepily, the Afghan twisted around her ankles as she sat on the floor, leaning against the couch and rubbing her eyes. 

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all," Mulder said, filled with sarcasm. 

"What happened?" Scully asked from the floor, her voice losing most of its sleepiness. 

"I landed on the bowl." 

"Oh. How come you look so warm?" 

"It's over a hundred degrees outside, Scully." 

"Yeah, but the air's on in here." 

"Uh......I gotta go to the bathroom," Mulder said weakly, and fled. 

Sighing, Scully shook her head. Mulder could be so weird. Then she closed her eyes, trying to remember the dream she'd just had, about a falling pipe , Mulder, and some men that she couldn't remember. 

PART 2   
CHAPTER 2a   
"This it?" Chuck asked, guiding the car into a large, 6 story parking garage. 

"I guess. It's the one the paper talks about," Sam said, rereading for the twentieth time the article on the bombing. It was supposed to happen at approximately at one-thirty tomorrow afternoon. Right in this building, the first floor. 

"Well, what do we do?" Chuck asked him, pulling into a parking space next to a Neon. 

"You go and get dinner. Or at least lunch," Al suggested from the backseat. Sam turned in the seat so he could see both Al and Chuck. "Krychek's not here, so you're wasting your time." 

"How about we go eat someplace?" 

"Then why'd we come here?" Chuck asked him, confused. 

"Well, I just thought of eating. Why don't we come back to stake out the place after we find a restaurant." 

"Sounds alright to me," Chuck reasoned, and backed the car up. 

It was nearly 5:30 when they dug into their meals. It was just Sam and Chuck now; Al had left almost twenty minutes earlier to talk to Gary some more. 

"So, how do you plan to stop this, huh, Gare? I mean, this guy could be a lunatic, not willing to cooperate." 

"COULD be a lunatic? Well, something's gotta be wrong with him if he's gonna blow up part of DC," Sam answered. Chuck nodded. 

"I guess you're right," Chuck took a big bite out of his greasy burger. 

"You guess?" 

"Listen, Gary, okay? I know it might sound selfish, that's me, ya know, but I'm really not looking forward to getting myself killed. So don't go risking YOUR life, or mine, if you don't have to." 

"What are you suggesting, Chuck? We let Krychek blow up the town? Or we go around the whole DC area and evacuate them, one by one, telling everyone that we know where a bomb is, when it's going off, but we didn't plant it? We'll get thrown in jail for sure, and then how do we help?" 

"Okay, okay, you've made your point. It's just.......maybe we should go to the FBI, call the bomb squad, or something," he sighed, then added, "We should have at least told Detective Crumbb before we left." 

"Yeah, I know. I just DON'T know," Sam said, feeling frustrated and truly helpless. He needed to stop the bombing to Leap, but he couldn't if he told the authorities and got Gary Hobson arrested. He took a sip of his Coke and watched Chuck devour the rest of his sandwich and French fries across the table. 

The diner they had decided on wasn't very big, or very crowded. The booths were a pastel green, and the tables were pink. But at least it had a nice air conditioning system that worked very well. 

"Listen, Sam," Al said, appearing suddenly behind Chuck. 

Sam raised his eyebrows. 

"What?" Chuck asked, sipping his drink. 

"Nothing," Sam said. 

"I gotta talk to you. Ziggy's got some odds." 

Sam stood up. 

"Where're you going?" 

"The bathroom." 

"Again?" 

"Yes, again," Sam said patiently. Then he walked past all the booths to the wooden doors in the far right corner. The men's was a single bathroom, and, thankfully, no one was in it. 

"Okay, Al, spill it," Sam said, crossing his arms over his sleeveless white tee shirt and leaning his back against the wall. 

"Alright," the retired Italian-American Admiral for the United States Navy was stalling. 

"C'mon, Al. What's Ziggy got this time?" 

"Okay, see," Al paused, staring at the glowing handlink in his palm. His ever-present cigar was hanging limply from the corner of his mouth, unlit. Al's bright green vest and pants over a neon yellow silk shirt contradicted his somber attitude. 

"Ziggy says," Al continued slowly, "That there's a 89.7% chance that the bombing will still occur, and you and Chuckieboy will die trying to stop it." 

"And what about the two FBI agents you told me about?" 

"Well, they'll die, too," Al said, not meeting Sam's eyes. 

"Al, what happens if I do die?" Sam asked quietly. 

"You won't die. Ziggy has a plan-" 

"But what if I do?" 

"I don't know, Sam. Ziggy doesn't know either. So, the only thing I can say is, don't die. Stop the bombing. Save everybody." 

"Of course that's what I'll try to do. But how, Al? It's not like I can just walk into the J. Edgar Hoover Building and tell some FBI agents that a bomb's gonna explode tomorrow. No one will believe me!" 

"Maybe they will," Al said, a look of concentration on his face. 

"What do you mean?" Sam asked him. 

"Yeah, well, Alex Krychek was former FBI, wasn't he, Zig?" Al seemed to be talking to the computer, not Sam. Then he turned back to the Leaper. 

"If you tell them that Alex Krychek is planning to blow up the parking garage, they might believe you." 

"What? What kind of records do you have on Krychek?" 

"Well, most of them are sealed, or have been destroyed. But from what Ziggy's found out, I'd say within good reason. He was a pure rat in the FBI. And a murderer, too. Worked with some underground conspiracies, but there's no sure proof of that. Disappeared last year, your time, but frequently reappears every once and a while." 

"A murderer?" Sam asked weakly. 

"Yes, apparently. Shot and killed an FBI agent's father, and another's sister. Also killed a tram operator, and several others," Al seemed as surprised at the information Ziggy had as Sam. 

"Killed FBI families? Do you think anyone would believe me about the bomb?" 

"I don't know, but Ziggy's got another idea." 

"Yeah, what's that?" 

"You can go and talk to the one remaining agent. The one whose sister was shot." 

"But what happened to the other agent?" 

"His name was Fox Mulder. He was found shot in the head in his apartment a little over two weeks ago. His father had been killed by Krychek. His partner, Dana Scully, was the other agent. In fact, she even ID'd the body for the police department." 

"He was murdered? By Krychek?" Sam asked, not liking what he was getting into. 

"No. Officially, he killed himself, but there were multiple bullet holes in his chest and stomach." 

"And that wasn't reported?" 

"No. I guess not. But somehow, we got a record of that. Thank Ziggy for that one." 

"Oh great. So, I have to go tell this Agent Scully about the bombing?" 

"Yup." "Okay. Where does she live?" 

PART 2   
CHAPTER 2b   
"Mulder, what are you talking about?" 

"Geez, all I said was-" 

"I heard what you said. But the files weren't there." 

"WHAT?" Now Mulder was the confused one. "But I left them there, in the bottom right drawer......" his voice trailed off. 

"You don't think they took it, do you? I mean, why would they?" 

"No, I don't think they took it. It wasn't valuable enough. It was only an average case. I mean, illegal immigration is NOT alien abductions, you know." 

"Really?" Scully asked sarcastically. Mulder grinned. But then his smile faded. 

"I should come with you to stake out the barbershop." "No, Mulder. The deal hasn't fallen through yet. You can't leave the apartment yet." 

"But, Scully! You don't understand. What if they come after you?" 

"They won't. They don't have any reason to, remember? I'm not a threat to them without your wild theories, and you're dead." 

"Can't I at least hide in the back seat?" 

"Oh please, Mulder. Tell me you're not gonna wear that ridiculous costume again!" 

"But no one will know who I am." 

"Aren't people gonna wonder why I'm walking around with you dressed like that?" 

"They won't wonder. They won't care. I'll be sneaky." 

"Okay, but we're not leaving until it gets dark." 

"Good. It's very hot and humid outside." 

"Did you order dinner?" 

"No. You didn't tell me what you wanted." 

"Yes I did. Before I took the movies back." 

"No, you did not." 

"Mulder, give me the phone. I'll order something." 

"Sure. Fine. Whatever." 

PART 2   
CHAPTER 3a   
"How did you get all this information?" Chuck asked suspiciously as they drove down the street, searching for the right building. 

"I saw something about it in the paper. Something I didn't notice before." 

"And how'd you get her address? Did the paper change again?" 

"Change?" 

"Yeah, it's happened before, remember? The headline changes sometimes." 

Sam fished the paper out of his back pocket as Chuck pulled into the parking lot of Agent Scully's building. 

It looked pretty much the same to him. Except he noticed that the date had changed. Instead of tomorrow afternoon, the bomb exploded sometime tonight. 

"Oh, God," Sam mumbled in awe. 

"What's wrong?" Chuck asked, sliding the car into park and turning to look at his pal. 

"The bombing. It happens tonight." 

"Oh geez. Then we'd better hurry," Chuck said, leaping out of the car and slamming the door shut. Sam followed, clutching the paper. 

"What apartment was it?" 

"I don't know. 24, I think." When they found the door, Sam raised his hand to knock, but the door swung open. 

"Excuse me, can I help you?" a short, redheaded woman asked. She was wearing jeans and a tee shirt. Sam couldn't believe that she could wear jeans in such hot weather, but a gust of cold air from the apartment told him that the air was on. 

"Um, Ms. Scully?" Sam asked. 

"Yes?" Scully said. She wondered if these were their new henchmen, but they didn't look like government. They weren't even dressed for the job. That was a relief to Dana. 

"I - We need to talk to you." 

"Concerning what?" she asked, professional yet curious, her hand still on the door. 

"Concerning a bombing, and a guy named Alex Krychek," Sam answered solemnly. 

Anger flashed in Dana's eyes. 

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" she asked, enraged. 

"I wish it was," Sam mumbled. 

"What?" 

"No, no, it's no joke," Chuck spoke up. "Let us introduce ourselves. I'm Chuck Fishman, and this is my friend Gary Hobson." 

"You don't look like government men. How do you know about Krychek? And what's all this about a bomb?" Agent Scully came into the hallway and closed the door behind her. 

"Give us a couple minutes. We can explain," Sam said, almost frantic. 

"I'm going down to Arnie's to pick up my dinner. You have until I come back to convince me of your cause." 

"Okay," the two men agreed, and followed Dana Scully as she walked down the hallway, talking a mile a minute. 

PART 2   
CHAPTER 3b   
Agent Fox Mulder was worried. He had heard Scully talking to someone at the door, and with nothing more that a wave of her hand, she had left with whoever was there. 

He hoped that it wasn't some psycho. He hoped that she knew what she was doing. 

He laughed to himself. This was Scully he was talking about. Of course she could handle herself. 

He sighed and turned on the faucet, running the pot with dried on cheese and macaroni under the steady stream. Except for those couple times, he thought guiltily. Those were all HIS fault. He should have been able to protect her. But he couldn't, and hadn't, and she had been taken. 

When the dishes were in the dishwasher, he sat down on the couch and closed his eyes. 

At least, now HE wasn't in trouble. And he could finally keep an eye on Scully, if she would let him. Of course, she HAD just gone to get their dinner with some complete stranger. 

"Great," he said out loud. "Just great."   


END OF PART 2   
An Explosion A Day.....   
PART 3   
CHAPTER 1   
"So, what you've told me," Scully summed up, taking her keys out of her pocket and shifting the greasy bag to her left hand, "Is that you know FOR A FACT that Alex Krychek will blow up the parking garage across from the IRS building sometime tonight." 

"Yes," both Sam and Chuck answered. 

Scully nodded and walked into the apartment. 

"Come on in," she told them. "I hardly think you're dangerous." 

Sam and Chuck walked in to find a nicely furnished apartment with a tall man wearing a blue shirt and jeans sprawled on the couch, asleep. 

"Don't mind him," Scully said lightly, stepping around the game of Monopoly they had started last week and walking into the kitchen. 

"That's him, Sam! Fox Mulder, alive and well. Boy, Ziggy's freaking out!" Al's excited voice caused Sam to jerk around. 

"Are you okay, Gare?" 

"Uh, yeah, sure." 

"Are you two hungry?" 

"Nah, we just ate," Chuck informed her. 

"He faked his own death! Not bad, not bad at all, for the guy the bureau calls 'Spooky'." 

Sam's look was meant to get Al to shut up. Instead, it made him keep talking, which Sam deftly ignored in order to be a part of the more important conversation. 

"Sit down, sit down. Would you like something to drink?" Scully was working away in the kitchen. 

"No, thanks," Chuck and Sam said in unison. Al was still talking. Mulder stirred on the couch as both Chuck and Sam found a chair to sit in. 

Scully came back in the room carrying two heavy plates and two cans of pop. She placed them on the coffee table and shook Mulder awake. 

"Scully! Are you okay?" Mulder asked sleepily, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Then he caught sight of Sam/Gary and Chuck. 

"WHO are they? And what are they doing here?" Mulder was instantly on his feet, but Scully was there to soothe him and answer his questions. 

"Mulder, this is Gary Hobson and Chuck Fishman. They're from Chicago." 

"Yeah? And what are they doing here?" 

Chuck stood rigid next to Sam. Beckett only sighed, at which 

Al puffed on his cigar. 

"They have something to tell you, don't you two?" 

They nodded nervously. Sam didn't like having stumbled onto their little game of deceit. What could one possibly hope to do by faking your own death? He wasn't sure he wanted to know. But the agents SEEMED nice enough. 

"Yeah," Sam spoke up. "We know that Alex Krychek planted a bomb in the first story of the parking garage across the street from the IRS building. And that sometime tonight, it will go off, taking half of the people in the vicinity with it," Sam repeated the basics of what he and Chuck had told Scully. 

Mulder sat back down and took a bite out of his sandwich. 

After he had chewed and swallowed, he looked up at Sam. 

Mulder's glare seemed to penetrate right through Sam/Gary's body, and for a moment, Sam feared that the supposedly dead agent knew exactly who he was. But then Mulder glanced away and Sam, relaxing, letting out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. 

"That damn Krychek. I should have killed him long ago. By all rights, he should be dead." 

"Mulder," Scully said softly. Mulder looked at the carpet and closed his eyes. 

"Sam, if Fox Mulder comes with you to stop Krychek, there's a 96.4% chance that the bomb will still go off. And all of you will die." 

Sam swallowed hard, and closed his eyes in concentration. 

"Mulder, I'm going with Gary and Chuck to the garage. I want you to-" 

"NO! No! You can't go, Scully. No, not without me." 

"But Mulder-" 

"I'm sorry, Scully. But I HAVE to come." 

Scully nodded her agreement, not even bothering to argue. Apparently, Agent Mulder was a very stubborn man. 

"Well, then, should we be getting on our way?" Chuck asked, having a smile too wide to be true. 

So Mulder and Scully got ready, and followed Sam and Chuck into the dark, dangerous night. 

PART 3   
CHAPTER 2   
The parking garage was, thankfully, pretty deserted. It was already quarter after nine, and Chuck was beginning to wonder where the day had gone. 

Of course, he and Gary had been sitting in the car, staking out half of the lowest level, for the past two hours, give or take a couple minutes. 

Chuck didn't like it. Sure, given the chance and the right opportunity, Chuck would probably risk his life to save others. Granted, not as quickly as Gary, and probably not as good, but he would do it nonetheless. 

And there was something else that Chuck didn't like. Ever since the plane ride, Gary had been acting different. Not too much, but just enough to make Chuck wonder. Sometimes, he would ask him a question and his friend wouldn't answer, not even with a joke. Other times, it appeared the Gary was listening to someone that wasn't there. Like he had supersonic hearing and could listen to someone in China, or Peru. 

Little did Chuck know, 'Gary' was listening to someone from the future, and he was listening to him right now. 

"Okay, Sam. Krychek's here." 

"How do you know?" Sam wanted to ask, but didn't. 

"He's headed for Mulder and Scully's car. You gotta go stop him! GO!" 

Sam jumped at his friend's yelling, and quickly got out of the car. 

"Where?" Sam asked, as Chuck joined him in the parking space next to their car. 

"There!" Al pointed. 

Sam took off running, and left a surprised Chuck calling after him. 

"Wait up, Gare!" 

Sam rounded the corner and came to a dead halt. 

There was a gun pointed at his chest, and Alex Krychek was standing right in front of him, holding it and grinning. 

"The name's Krychek," he said, still grinning, and nodded for Sam to get against the wall. 

PART 3   
CHAPTER 3   
The gun was aimed right at Sam/Gary's heart, and Sam didn't even dare to breathe. He couldn't remember ever having been in a situation like this, though he knew he probably had been. Several times, most likely. 

"CHUCK!" Sam belted. "CHUCK! Go get the others! Krychek's here! He's got a-" 

Sam didn't get any farther. Krychek punched him in the face, and then smacked Sam's head against the wall. Hard. 

Sam/Gary's body collapsed limply. 

"Sam!" Al cried, dropping to his knees beside the Leaper. But Sam was unconscious, and Krychek was off and running. 

Chuck had heard Sam's cries, and had turned around. He deftly darted between large concrete poles, and made it to Mulder and Scully's car out of breath. As soon as he came into their point of view, they were out of the car. 

"What happened?" Scully asked as they rushed to his side. 

"Krychek," Chuck panted. "He's.......here.......got.....Gary." 

Mulder was off running in one direction, and called out to Scully, "Dana, go take the other side, and take him with you." 

Then he turned around a corner and was gone. 

"C'mon," Scully said, already running the opposite way. 

"What.....ever....you......say," Chuck panted, following. 

PART 3   
CHAPTER 4   
"Sam! SAM! C'mon, Sam! Wake up, kid! C'mon!" Al was flailing his arms wildly, but it was useless. Sam was still knocked out, bruised and bleeding a lot. And as a hologram, there was nothing Al could do. 

Except he could go see what else was happening. See if anyone else was down. And it sure as hell would shut Ziggy up. The nosy hybrid computer was dying to know what was going on. 

So, reluctantly, Al wondered away from his friend, praying that Sam would be okay and that someone else could stop the bomb. 

The first person he saw, or rather, persons, were Dana Scully and Chuck Fishman. They were jogging around, out of breath, looking for Krychek. The hot redhead had her gun out, and a determined look on her face. 

If it had been another time, and under completely different circumstances, he would have been hitting on her for a date. But the conditions now, or then, made Al reluctantly push the thought out of his head. Boy, he had a weakness for redheads. 

Even if they had been able to see and hear him, Al doubted he could have warned Dana and Chuck quick enough for them to get out of the way. But he couldn't tell them, and the useless words hadn't even left his mouth by the time Krychek's bullet had whizzed by Chuck's ear and hit the large, heavy pipe above them. Before Scully or Chuck could react, another shot rang out and the huge metal pipe came crashing down on top of them. 

"Oh God," Al murmured, and rushed to their side to see if they were okay. 

Both were bleeding, unconscious, and trapped under the pipe. And Dana's left arm was bent at an unnatural angle. 

The shots had alarmed Mulder, who ran as fast as he could around the corner and to his partner's aide. 

But, as almost always, he was too late to help her. 

"Hang on, Dana," he murmured, sweeping her blood-tangled hair out of her closed eyes. 

Then he was off again, leaving Al racing behind him. The two men both saw the quick movement in the shadows across the garage. Both heard the scrape of boot against concrete. And before Al could think of anything to do, Mulder was halfway across the room. 

Al decided all he could do was watch and feed information to Ziggy, both of which he did in awe. 

"Hey, Krychek! I know you're in there!" 

The would-be bomber slowly stepped into the faint light of the headlights of Mulder and Scully's car. His arms were raised. One shined in the light. 

"Hey, you dirty S.O.B., what happened to your arm?" Mulder asked loudly, his gun and his eyes trained on the man across the garage. Steadily, he took step after step until he could reach out his hand and slap the younger man across the face. He resisted the urge, however strong, and nodded at Krychek's left arm. It was wooden. 

"It's a wonder I haven't killed you yet," he added. 

He let Krychek get over the shock of seeing him alive. 

"I thought you were dead, man." 

"I'm not. But you're gonna be." 

"Listen, Mulder. I can help you." 

Mulder grinned, and waved the gun in Krychek's face. Alex blinked, but kept his hands held up. 

"C'mon, Mulder. I can expose them. That's what they fear. They fear it ten times as much as death. Exposure for them would be much more painful. Don't you want them to suffer?" 

"Oh, sure. But I want you to suffer more. You don't deserve to live. You never have. I will make you suffer. I will make you pay," a mad gleam swept across Mulder's eyes, then disappeared right in front of Al's holographic eyes. He had the look of a killer. Of a man so caught up in vengeance that he didn't know what he was doing, or what he was capable of doing. 

"Stop, Mulder! Don't shoot him!" Sam's weary voice rang out unnaturally loud in the vast emptiness of the garage. Al whooped cheerfully. He was coming up behind Mulder, still bleeding and swaying on his feet. He was approaching slowly, ever so slowly, so as not to irritate the irrational man with the gun. 

"Don't try to stop me, Mr. Hobson." 

"Gary," Sam corrected instantly. 

"Gary," Mulder repeated. "I'm sick and tired of this man. You don't know what he's done to me. To my family. To my partner! YOU DON'T KNOW!" Mulder was near tears. He really didn't want to kill him, and Sam knew that, but he could. He could do it. And it was so tempting, so very tempting, to give him a taste of his own medicine. Give him what he deserved. 

"Actually, I think I do," Sam said slowly, carefully. Al nodded encouragement, and Sam started to repeat the facts he and Ziggy were feeding him. 

Chuck and Dana were still knocked out, but they were coming to. Slowly. Everything was going very slowly. 

"How could you know?" Mulder asked, trying to sound angry and disbelieving, but coming off as curious. Krychek watched silently as Sam/Gary slowly approached Mulder, talking in a soothing voice to calm the rattled agent. 

"This rat here," Sam started, not really needing Al anymore. He had already known about this Krychek guy, but didn't know how. 

"He became your new partner when the X Files were shut down. He earned your trust, despite your 'trust no one' slogan. Then he turned against you. He killed a tram operator at a ski resort and tried to kill you when you were after Duane Barry. But when Scully disappeared, so did he. But he wasn't really gone, and he showed up again. In fact, he came back several times. He even shot your father. You could have killed him then. But Scully saved you. If she wouldn't have stopped you, everyone would thought that you killed your dad. But then Krychek came back with an alien virus. And then there was that whole charade in Russia," Sam stopped to catch his breath. Al nodded appreciatively. He had Mulder's full attention now. The troubled man near tears was staring at him in disbelief. His lips formed the word 'how', but no sound came out. He just kept staring. 

Unfortunately, that was all the break Krychek needed. He brought his knee up hard and slammed it into Mulder's lower abdomen. At the same time, he brought his one good arm down hard on the back of Mulder's neck. Then, while Mulder was doubled over and gasping for breath, Krychek grabbed the gun away from him. 

But before Krychek could do anything, Mulder defended himself. He swung his long legs and slammed Krychek's knees, causing Alex to collapse, sending the gun skittering across the concrete ground. 

It came to a rest at Sam/Gary's feet. He slowly bent down and picked it up. Sam Beckett hatted guns. But he could use it if he had to. He just hoped that he was a good shot. Or a bad one. 

"Point it at the ceiling! Or down the hall! Shoot it, Sam! It'll get their attention!" Al shouted frantically at him, waving his cigar around wildly in the air and desperately wishing he could do something more than talk to Sam. 

"Okay, okay!" Sam said, and did as told. 

The sound froze both Mulder and Krychek in their tracks, fists raised to smack the other. 

"Now, listen up!" Sam announced, waving the gun around. He realized he was yelling, even though Fox and Alex weren't that far away. Al looked over at him, grinning proudly. 

"Atta boy, Sam." 

"Now, Krychek, you get your butt over there and deactivate that damn bomb, because if you don't, I'll blow your head off and figure it out myself. I've had more than enough experience." 

Alex moved swiftly to the glowing and beeping bomb, one eye on Sam all the time, and a series of loud beeps and squeaks caused a sigh of relief from Al. 

"Ziggy says it's deactivated." 

"Good," Sam said, to both Al and Krychek. "But I'm not through yet. Mulder, go cuff him. Then toss him over here. I'll take care of him, alright?" 

Mulder nodded. 

"Whoa!" Chuck whispered from far behind Sam. Dana was standing next to him, cradling her broken arm. Chuck rubbed his eyes, then scratched his head. 

"I must have hit my head a lot harder than I thought. Gare sounds like a whole different person. And he has more authority." 

"Either way, Mr. Fishman, your friend's got everything under control, and it appears that it's gonna stay that way." 

Scully and Chuck slowly came up behind Sam. 

Once Krychek was cuffed and given to Sam, he was pushed into the back seat of the rental car. Then Sam locked him in and turned around. 

"I'll give you your gun back if you promise not to use it on Krychek." 

"Okay," Mulder agreed, swiping at the blood dripping from his mouth. 

"No, no, Sam. You're gonna sit next to him, and you're gonna need it," Al informed the Leaper. 

"Actually, I think I'll sit in the back and I'll keep the gun for now." 

Scully ran to her partner's side. 

"Are you okay, Mulder?" 

"I'm fine, Scully. Are you alright? What happened to your arm?" 

"Well, it's broken, but I'm okay." 

"How come I haven't Leaped yet, Al?" Sam whispered. The hologram 

shrugged. 

"Must not be done yet," came his reply. 

"What's that, Gare?" Chuck asked, rubbing his eyes and coming up behind him. 

"Oh, nothing," Sam said absently. Then he raised his voice a little so Mulder and Scully could hear him. 

"C'mon, you two. Let's get him to the police, and the rest of us to the hospital. 

So Sam, whose left eye was swelled so much he couldn't see out of it, and whose ears rang and vision doubled, sat in the back with a silent Krychek, while Chuck, Scully, and Mulder squished in the front. 

Mulder, the least hurt out of all of them, got behind the wheel. 

The tire squealed as they pulled away. 

"If I ever come back to DC," Chuck announced, "It would be too soon." 

PART 3   
CHAPTER 5 - Epilogue   
The heat wave had finally died down. At least, in DC it had. An entire night of thunderstorms had drenched the city, eradicated the humidity, and brought the temperature down to a cool 78¯. 

Sam, who had not leaped out yet, had been released earlier in the day. He was waiting for Chuck to finish up the insurance work at the front desk, and then they were heading home. 

With, of course, one important stop on the way to the airport. 

But Sam didn't expect to make it through the entire journey. His job here was mostly done. 

"Hey, Gare," Chuck said, smiling. He herded Sam towards the elevators. 

"All done?" Sam asked him, and Chuck nodded as the doors closed. 

"We gotta hurry if we wanna make the flight." 

Sam nodded, and Chuck whisked him out of the hospital's doors as soon as the elevator ones opened. 

"What's your rush?" he asked as Chuck practically threw him in the car and squealed the car out of the parking lot. 

"We have to meet Agent Scully." 

"And Agent Mulder," Sam added. 

"He's got a crush on her, Sam," Al announced with a hint of playful jealousy in his voice. 

"Lighten up," Sam said to both of them. He received two identical grins. 

Sam just shook his head. 

They had decided to meet at the diner he and Chuck had gone to earlier. They still had a good three hours before their flight, but Chuck was getting fidgety. 

When they slid into the booth across from the two agents, Chuck had a big smile on his face, and Sam couldn't help smiling too. 

"So, how's your arm, Agent Scully?" Sam asked politely. 

"Please, call me Dana. And it's doing better, thank you." 

"How're you, Gary? I heard you had a concussion," Mulder said. 

"Yeah, not a big one. I'm doing all right. Got a killer headache though." 

"Wow. What an interesting conversation," Al noted, bored. 

"Why'd you want to see us?" Sam asked. Chuck, apparently, was tongue-tied. 

"We just wanted to thank you," Scully said. 

"For more than saving us at the garage last week." 

"For what, then?" Sam asked, curious. 

"I have- I had, an inoperable cancer that the origin of was unknown." 

"But while Scully here was sleeping in the hospital, she received a mysterious inoculation for her cancer. And the doctors are baffled. All they found was the mark from a needle in her right arm." 

"You mean, your cancer's........cured?" Chuck asked, amazed. 

Sam and Al were amazed, too. 

"How.........I mean, that's great." 

"Thank you," Dana said, practically beaming. 

"But surely we had nothing to do with it." 

"If Scully hadn't been in the hospital, then she wouldn't have gotten cured. And if you wouldn't have told Agent Scully and I about the bomb, it would have exploded, injuring half the city and killing hundreds." 

"Well, it's all in a day's work," Sam said nervously, wondering where this conversation was going, and hoping it was not headed where he thought it was. 

"I just want to know, off the record, Mr. Hobson, how exactly you knew about the bombing before it happened," Mulder asked him. 

Sam and Chuck stared at each other. It was headed exactly where Sam had thought. 

"I.....uh......I.....um......" 

"You're stuttering, Sam," Al said, amused. 

"How'd you know, Gary?" Scully asked softly, just as curious as her partner. 

"I......uh.....had a hunch?" 

"You flew all the way out to DC from Chicago on a hunch?" the agents didn't buy a word of his lame excuse. 

"Well, no, you see-" 

But Sam never got to finish that sentence. And Mulder and Scully never got their questions answered. 

A bright white-blue light surrounded him. 

And Sam Leaped. 

THE END 

Applause are welcome. I hoped you liked the story, I know it was kinda short, yada, yada, yada, and thank you for reading it. A sequel is currently in production - look for it shortly. It's called "...Keeps Suspicions Away". Sorry for any errors I didn't catch. Any feedback is welcome. Please E-Mail responses to Ambino1111@aol.com. Thank you!   



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